


One Dance

by iamkathastrophe



Series: Shattered Lucain Pieces [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationship, Lucifer is being a smug fuck, M/M, a bit of angst, feelings talk, it might hurt at the end, knights of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 04:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamkathastrophe/pseuds/iamkathastrophe
Summary: It is said that there's a room for everyone in Hell, and Cain was no exception to the rule.





	One Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionsuicide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsuicide/gifts).



It is said that there's a room for everyone in Hell, and Cain was no exception to the rule.His chamber didn't have locks and bars in the door, its interior didn't consist of nothing but hard cold stone and chains dangling off the walls and his soul wasn't damned to be tortured every day over and over again until there's nothing left of him but a cloud of black smoke.

 

No, Cain's room in Hell was different. It was vast and comfortable, heated by flames that, unlike the rest of fire in Hell, wasn't cold and hollowing. It was comforting and pleasant when its red glow hit the skin. The stone floor was covered in thick furs, bookshelves against the walls, and a big soft bed in the midst of it.

 

Cain didn't need any of these luxuries. As the First Knight of Hell, he didn't need a bed to sleep in, or a fireplace to keep him warm. All of these luxuries were provided to him to preserve the bits of humanity left in him. It was given to him to give him solace, a place to breathe after he's done with the training that only God knows how long lasted.

 

Well, not exactly. There was no God in Hell.

 

Despite the fact that Cain found himself in possibly the worst place in the universe ever created, he often found himself telling himself that it could have been worse. He could have been locked in one of the cells as a damned soul, used by demons as a plaything. With how the things are now, demons bow to him, to Cain, to the First Knight, to Father of Murder.

 

And this, well, day, Cain finds himself in a need of a drink. There was no alcohol in Hell, and Cain wasn't allowed to leave this place, but training the Knights and having demons respect you had its perks. Just last night, Anthony came back with a crystal carafe filled with amber whisky. It's probably not nearly enough to get Cain drunk, but a glass after work is a nice treat. 

 

Or rather, it would have been if there wasn't someone knocking at Cain's door just as he was about to sit in the armchair by the fireplace. Cain just sighed out deeply and took a swing from his glass before calling out “Come in!”.

 

The doors crack open and a demon slips inside. Cain recognizes Andrew in him, a low-tier thing with a bad attitude. 

 

“What do you want?” Cain asks the demon with an arch of his dark eyebrow. He's just finished his work, the last thing he wants to do now is to deal with demons.

 

Andrew raises his hands defensively as if he could sense Cain's displeased at his sight. “I'm just delivering a message. Boss wants to see you.”

 

Cain stiffened a bit in his seat, eyes squinting. “Did he tell you why?”

 

“Of course not,” Andrew snorts. Then he puts his hands down and gestures at the door. “But he said he wants to see you  _ now _ , so if I were you, I'd be quick… sir.” 

 

“Fine.” Cain pours some more whisky into his glass and raises up from his chair still holding it. If he has to go and see  _ him _ , he can at least give himself some help with the alcohol. And a good one, for that matter.

 

He sends Andrew away as soon as he steps out of his chamber, his training clothes still on. The leather of his boots squeaks as he walks, heavy heels knocking against the stone floor. As always while passing the hallways of Hell, Cain tries to ignore the screams coming from the cells nearby, ignore laughing of the demons. It's hard, but he's had years upon years to get used to it.

 

Cain doesn't even bother with knocking, he's stopped doing this a long time ago. He just steps inside the throne room, one hand in the pocket of his thick training trousers, the other one guiding the glass to his mouth. 

 

Lucifer is sitting casually on his throne as always, one leg dangling from the armrest, his elbows on the other one. He's shooting Cain that all-knowing smirk, like there's a secret he's aware of and Cain is not. Oh well. It's yet another thing Cain got used to.

 

“Hi, Candy-Cain,” the Devil himself hums sweetly from his seat, smiling widely. “Did you miss me?”

 

“Dearly,” Cain replies dryly. “Andrew said that you wanted to see me.”

 

The smile widens. “I did.” Lucifer stretches in his seat. “And you came when I called, as always. Really, it melts my hearts, but…” his blue eyes shine “I want to know how the training of my Knights is going.” 

 

Cain sighs. Of course. “It depends. I can tell you that they're vicious,” he takes a step forward, “Arrogant,” step, “Aggressive,” another step. “They're evil.”

 

“Great!” Lucifer claps his hands and gestures at Cain to come closer. “That's exactly what I wanted to hear. What are you drinking, huh?” He takes the glass out Cain's hand and gives it a sniff. “Poor-quality whisky?” 

 

“I like it, thank you very much,” Cain huffs, grabbing his glass back and taking a sip. “I should train with the Knights more, or they'll get out of control.”

 

“Hmm, I'm sure it'll be fine.”

 

“They're aggressive,” Cain utters.

 

“Of course they are! They're demons!” 

 

The words feel bitter on his tongue when he speaks. “So am I.”

 

Lucifer's face immediately softens. “Come on, Candy-Cain, don't give me that look now,” he murmurs lowly, reaching out and digging his fingers into Cain's hair, combing through it soothingly. “You know you're not like the rest.”

 

Is it the truth? Most likely. Lucifer never lied. Sometimes he failed to mention an important detail, or he spoke half-truths but the fact remains, Lucifer never lies. And in this very case, he should know. After all, he was the one who shaped Cain into the creature he now is. 

 

Cain should hate Lucifer for it. He should hate Lucifer for playing with Abel, for forcing Cain to doing all these hideous things. But he couldn't. Despite everything, despite all the harm done and all the pain indicted, Cain just loves Lucifer too much to ever hate him.

 

He leans more into the touch, strangely comforting and warm against his skin, so different that the Hell’s cold. “How can I be sure?” Cain asks, his voice slightly trailing off as his fingers find the Mark on his forearm, nearly burning through his shirt.

 

“Well, you're going to have to believe me,” Lucifer murmurs, his voice sweet as honey, thumb stroking Cain's cheekbone. “You know that I would never lie to you, Candy-Cain. And you can see for yourself, you're different than them.” 

 

“Are you trying to comfort me?” Cain teases, but he doesn't let Lucifer take his hand away from his cheek.

 

The King of Hell himself huffs. “I'm not comforting you,” he snaps with a roll of his eyes, but Cain can hear a soft tone in his voice. “I'm just stating the facts. You're special,” Lucifer adds, and Cain just hopes that he doesn't mean the Mark. The Mark that surely will drive him crazy one night.

 

Cain just shakes his head, and leans in to rest his forehead against Lucifer's shoulder. Suddenly, he feels tired. Not physically, but mentally. 

 

“What's the matter now, hmm?” Lucifer wants to know, sneaking an arm around Cain's waist and pulling him a little closer. Not too much, Lucifer would never show off any affection willingly. But this was good enough. 

 

“You could visit me more often,” Cain mutters, hoping that he doesn't sound whiny. “I get lonely down there. And my bed is far too big for one person.”

 

He can almost feel Lucifer grin with satisfaction against his hair. “I rule Hell, Candy-Cain, I can't just spend my whole time in your room.” 

 

Cain sighs out as he pulls back and reaches for Lucifer's hand. “Not the whole time, I wouldn't bare it. But sometimes,” he adds, squeezing Lucifer's hand. “Come on, Luce, let's dance.”

 

“Dance?” Lucifer echoes, but he gets off the throne nevertheless, following Cain's guidance. “Where did that come from?” 

 

“You owe me at least one,” Cain tells him, wrapping his arms around Lucifer, enjoying a little bit of physical contact. This is one of the things he misses in Hell the most. But this, one dance, should be enough for some time.

 

“Lucifer?” Cain suddenly speaks up, words pushing their way out of his mouth.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Don't leave me. Ever.” 

 

Lucifer presses a gentle kiss to Cain's temple, a gesture he learnt from Cain. “I won't. Promise.” 

 

Neither of them knew it was the last time they would see each other.


End file.
